


Rumor Has It...

by winterisakiller (sparkinside)



Series: Brave Face [3]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston- Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Request Fic, au-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 19:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19856986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/winterisakiller
Summary: WithBetrayala success in both London and New York, rumors of  Tony award nominations spread. Tom Hiddleston, while flattered, refuses to let himself be led by it. But when the day the nominations are set to be announced arrives, Tom finds himself drawn into the tantalizing idea of ‘what if’ and with his girlfriend of a year by his side, waits with bated breath to see if rumor turns into fact.





	Rumor Has It...

**Author's Note:**

> <https://photos.app.goo.gl/QBowa44SH2NjLuz88>
> 
> I received the above ask on tumblr towards the end of last month and at first thought of tackling this with Tom and Rosie but the more I thought about the idea the more I realized it fit so perfectly with Tom and my newest OFC, Cath (whom you will be officially meeting in ‘Get Better’ a sequel to my three part story **_‘Brave Face’_** which will start posting on August 1st). So this story takes place after the events of **_‘Get Better’_** and while I feel odd about technically showing my hand with this, I love the story this ask brought about and I hope you enjoy it to. Thanks to [RedKitsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedKitsune/pseuds/RedKitsune) for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do.

Tom had woken far earlier than he’d meant to that morning and from a sleep that hadn’t been as restful as he’d hoped. Filming had gone much later than intended the night before and he’d finally stumbled into bed at quarter past one in the morning. A glance at the clock on the bedside table had told him it was just pushing eight. He groaned and rolled back over onto his stomach, willing sleep to claim him once more. But a half an hour of tossing and turning proved that notion fruitless.

He’d pushed himself out of bed and padded down the stairs, Bobby close on his heels. The spaniel weaved excitedly around his legs as Tom wandered into the kitchen. “Okay, okay,” he yawned, heading towards the back garden door. “Go do your business and I’ll have your breakfast ready when you’re done.” Bobby sprinted out into the back garden, yipping at the birds and squirrels. Tom poured kibble into the porcelain dog bowl and set about making himself a cup of coffee. Ten minutes later Bobby scrambled back in the opened door and attacked his meal with gusto. Tom simply shook his head and sipped his steaming mug of coffee. 

Coffee finished Tom found himself climbing the stairs once more and heading back into the bedroom. He should start getting himself ready for the day, he had a few hours left to kill before Cath would arrive for their weekly lunch date. It was nice, he’d found, having a simple routine in place. It gave him something to look forward to, a reminder of how they’d started. And any other day he’d be whistling as he picked up his clothing, looking forward to a few hours with the woman who’d come to mean the world to him. But there was a quiet layer of unease floating over him. _Must be the lack of sleep_ , he reasoned with himself as he paced before the closet door. Though if he were being honest, he’d been feeling off the past week. He stopped as a realization hit him. _The nominations come out today_. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he muttered to himself. He needed to get out of the house and try to clear his mind. He took a deep breath, nodding to himself before tossing on his running gear, grabbing Bobby’s lead, and taking them both on a much needed run. Bobby had been gloriously excited at the prospect, jumping around Tom’s feet as they made their way out the front door, nearly causing his master to trip several times before he was able to right himself, a string of curses echoing off the walls of the main hall. Wouldn’t that be hysterical, death by excited dog? Tom shook his head and pulled the door closed behind them both.

Headphones in, Tom lead them both down the relatively empty sidewalks of his neighborhood. It was late enough that the morning rush had all but cleared, which Tom had been grateful for. In his current state he was quite likely to run into a hapless commuter that found their way into his path. 

He was being utterly ridiculous and he’d known it; letting his nerves get the better of him because of _this_ , the chance that he might have just the slightest chance of actually getting a nomination. There was nothing set in stone, simply rumor and word of mouth but _god_ if it were true? He couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it. He was frankly afraid to think it for fear of jinxing the matter, as stupid and silly as the notion was. 

When he’d taken the role of Robert in _Betrayal_ nearly a year past, he had looked forward to the challenge of the role; to playing a man of dubious morals caught in a situation that effected so many lives not just his own. He’d been thrilled with the idea of a limited run, of being able to be back on stage and giving it his all night after night. Of being able to sleep in his own bed. The show’s initial success had been an unexpected, but deeply longed for, delight. They had always hoped the show would do well, but life in the West End was tricky and audiences could be fickle at the best of times. Many a great show had utterly failed to take off and there had been every chance that _Betrayal_ could have been one of them.

Getting to work with Zawe and Charlie had been a dream. They were just as engaged and dedicated as he was; he’d known Charlie for years and had always wanted the chance to work with him. Zawe had been great fun to work with during both the Pinter celebration and the Tolstoy vs Dickens battle. They were both magnificent in the craft and they’d been wonderful to play off of. Despite the show’s heavy nature, and his own personal experiences with the subject matter, Tom could honestly say the initial three month run had been some of the most fun he’d had in years.

And then the call had come, asking if he would be interesting in reviving his role alongside Charlie and Zawe, this time in New York and on Broadway. It was surreal, almost like a dream, and he had hardly believed it at first. His agent had needed to explain it, twice, before he’d actually been able to comprehend just what was being offered let alone agree. Cath had been the first person he called, knowing without a doubt that she would understand both his joy and his fear. And she had been ecstatic, beaming with pride for both him and for the production that she’d played a small role herself in bringing to life. 

He’d ramble on to her about his excitement and his worry. He talked about how absolutely elated he was to get the chance to work on Broadway, how he couldn’t believe they had done so well as to warrant such a thing, his fear that the show might not translate as well with American audiences, and his very real worry that four plus months apart would do them more harm than good especially when what they had was so new. And Cath, to her credit, had let him do so, offering him her quiet support and encouragement. He was talented, they all were; this was a wonderful opportunity regardless of how it panned out in the end and, most of all, this was a part of his job, she understood that and she trusted him. Her faith in him had warmed his heart in ways he couldn’t quite put to words. 

And the show had done well. Far better than he had dared to dream it would. Audiences and critics alike seemed taken with the production. He’d been positively giddy opening night; the show had gone off without a hitch, they had all been completely on point, and, best of all, Cath had surprised him by flying in. She hadn’t told him she was coming, and with her work picking up back home in London, he’d not expected her to be able to get away especially not this early on. But there she had been in the front row, beaming with pride and Tom had barely been able to contain his excitement when he’d caught sight of her. 

He’d pulled her into his arms when he’d finally been able to find her backstage, kissing her soundly, not caring who saw them. While they had kept their relationship relatively quiet, Tom had no intention of hiding her or what she meant to him. They’d gone out to celebrate; joining his cast mates for drinks before making excuses and heading off to take in a late dinner. She only had that night; her flight back to Heathrow had been scheduled for the next afternoon, her latest production couldn’t spare her for more than a day and a night. So it was with reluctance, late the next morning, that he’d seen her to the cab that would whisk her to the airport and from there back to London. 

Tom had been exhausted by the end of the run; physically drained and more than ready to head home, but so very grateful for the chance he’d been given. He’d have a few weeks grace once there before pre-production was set to begin on the Loki series and he’d been very much looking forward to spending time with friends and family. To insulating himself in the people who mattered and forgetting the outside world for as long as he was able. 

When the buzz started about potential awards surrounding the New York run of _Betrayal_ , Tom had paid them little mind. Such talk was typical and usually didn’t add up to anything in the long run. Especially as early on as the initial talk had been. But the talk kept happening and slowly Tom found himself thinking about the possibility with more frequency and more definition. It would be frankly amazing to get such recognition, a dream, but he had learned better than to take it as granted; he’d seen and experienced far too much in his career so far to ever do such a thing.

Cath had been his voice of reason through it all and had done her utmost best to keep him focused on the present, though he knew she was just as anxious as he was to see if it would actually happen. Much of his time had been spent on set, working with the various directors and writers to make the most of his next foray as the God of Mischief. Filming in and around London had been a godsend, though there had always been the distinct possibility of location shooting if needed for later episodes. 

Being close to home was wonderful and he knew he was spoiled by it. He’d made the effort to spend time with the friends he normally wouldn’t be able to see for months if not years at a time. He’d also spent as much time as he could with Cath; they’d taken to walks around the park with Bobby followed by dinner whenever they could. And Tuesday afternoons meeting for lunch, a habit they’d carried over from start of their relationship; when they’d cautiously extended the branch of friendship while dancing around the fact there was so much more between them. Things with Cath had taken to moving at a much slower rate than he’d done in previous relationships, cautious and steady, and for that he was exceedingly grateful. Tom was taking his time with Cath, wanting to make things work, needing to do it right this time. He’d gone through too much to risk repeating any of his past mistakes. Not when this time he thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d found the right person. 

Tom was a sweating but slightly calmer mess by the time he and Bobby had made it back home at quarter past eleven. He’d let Bobby loose once he’d closed the front door then taken the stairs two at a time, shedding his running clothes as he went. He rushed a shower, knowing Cath was due to arrive shortly. Dressed in dark jeans and a clean black t-shirt, he padded back downstairs and worked to throw together the lunch he’d planned. He’d been ambitious the day before, spending half of his free morning roasting a chicken and preparing various vegetables, all then combined into what he’d hoped were passable pot pies. All he’d left to do was pop them into the oven and hope for the best. 

As the baked, Tom busied himself tossing together a quick salad and dodging Bobby’s questing nose; the spaniel lived for Tom dropping bits of food and was always on guard for potential yummy surprises. By the time the buzzer on the front gate had gone off, announcing Cath’s arrival, Tom had the table in the dining room set and Bobby shut firmly in the back garden, mainly to save Cath from his frenzied excitement at her arrival. Tom’s nerves had come back in full swing as he buzzed her in and made his way to the front door. 

Cath greeted him with a quick kiss before pulling back and studying his face. “Whatever happens, you’ve done remarkably well and I am proud of you.” She reached up and brushed an errant curl behind his ear.

A broad grin broke across his features at both her words and her touch. “How is it you always know what to say?” Tom queried with a soft laugh, as he ushered her inside. 

She shrugged out of her jacket, hanging it on the coatrack by the door, and rested her bag in its usual place on the hallway table. “Years of practice,” she joked. “And listening to the drivel my brother has said. Apparently his choice of profession has rubbed off on me in ways.” 

Tom smiled at her before pulling her tightly against him and kissing the top of her head. He loved the way she fit so perfectly against him; her head coming to the middle his chest. He couldn’t adequately count the numbers of times he’d held her like this and just how much such a simple thing had come to mean. 

“So where is that delightful dog of yours?” Cath murmured into his chest before pulling back and glancing around the hall. Usually by this point Bobby would be barking at their heels demanding his own special greeting from the woman in Tom’s arms. 

Tom laughed in earnest at her actions and her words. “I see how it is now. You only like me for my dog.” Cath shrugged, smiling up at him, and they both broke into another round of laughter. “Bobby’s out back,” he told her once they’d calmed. “He’s been particularly underfoot the past few days. Driving me around the bend.” 

“Poor baby.” She leaned up and kissed him lightly. “I’ll just go pop out and say hello shall I?” She pulled out of Tom’s embrace and pattered down the hallway towards the back garden door. 

He shook his head and followed quickly behind muttering, “It’s always the bloody dog.”

Once Bobby had his ears firmly scratched and had given Cath his requisite excited kisses, the two of them made their way back inside with Bobby at their heels. Tom had made a valiant attempt to send the spaniel back but Cath had quickly stepped in, pleading his case, and Tom acquiesced with only a small amount of reluctance. Bobby trotted alongside his champion, looking back at Tom with what he could only described as a triumphant grin.

Bobby had taken his place, standing guard between Tom and Cath as they settled in the dining room, ever watchful for any dropped morsel. Tom pretended not to notice Cath slipping Bobby a piece of chicken and she offered him the same curtesy when he’d done the same ten minutes later much to the spaniel’s delight. They chatted amicably as they ate about their comings and goings during the past week; Cath had recently started working a new production in the West End and therefore had endless stories to share, most of which had Tom in hysterics. He, in turn, talked about his filming and about the next few projects he’d been tossing around. A few in and around London and a few farther abroad.

Tom had just stood, preparing to pop into the kitchen to grab the pudding he’d readied the night before when he felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket. He froze, causing Cath to stare up at him in momentary confusion. “Tom?”

He shook himself out of his head and pulled the phone from his pocket. His eyes widened as he took in the text from his agent that lit up his screen. ‘ _Congrats, Tom! Knew you would get it._ ’ Followed by a screen capture. ‘ _2020 Tony Nominees for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role in a Play: Tom Hiddleston for Betrayal’_.

“Oh…Oh my god.” 

Tom dropped back into his seat with soft thud, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry; could barely think. 

Concern flashed in Cath’s green eyes and she stood quickly, coming to stand beside him. “Tom? Tom what is it?”

Wordlessly he held out his mobile towards Cath, his hand shaking. She took it was a steady hand and read it silently to herself. He watched as her eyes widened and her mouth popped open in a silent ‘o’ of surprise. “Oh my god.” She dropped the phone onto the table, mouth splitting into a massive grin, as she turned to face him. “Oh. My. God! Tom, this is fantastic!” 

“I just…I…How…” he spluttered, failing completely at trying to find words to express himself. “This is real right?” He raised his eyes towards hers, a pleading look in them. “This isn’t some god awful prank?” He felt stupid even voicing such a thought but couldn’t seem to help himself. 

Cath shook her head, beaming at him. “No, it’s not. Tom you got the nomination. This is…I am so incredibly proud of you.” She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly to her small frame. After a few moments he wrapped his own arms around her, returning her embrace.

“I can’t believe it. I mean, I’d hoped…because you always hope, right? I just never…” Tom trailed off, laughing softly. Beside them on the table, his mobile had begun to vibrate away. He pulled back enough to steal a quick glance at it; far too many texts to count flashed across the brightly lit screen. 

“Quite the popular fellow there, Thomas,” Cath quipped, leaning in to place a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. 

Tom chuckled and pulled her firmly into his lap, pulling an unexpected whoop of surprise from her lips. “Occupational hazard, my dear.” 

Cath laughed and swatted him lightly on the chest. He rubbed the spot and murmured a soft oath in protest which earned him a quirked eyebrow. “Watch it.”

He leaned in and kissed her firmly. “Never.”

“Typical,” Cath breathed with a sigh, “man earns himself a Tony nomination and it goes straight to his head.” 

Tom dropped his head back and let out a long, loud laugh. 

  
  
  



End file.
